Buzios, Days 3-4 (Jan 5-6th)

On the 5th, I returned to Geriba, but this time in the company of Francisco and Santiago and some much finer weather.


We rented an umbrella, under which I sat my white self for most of the day, due to the patchy bits of sunburn that had bloomed on my skin since the previous day. Apparently, I had done a poor job of reapplying because I looked like I had been whipped, red slashes criss-crossing my body here and there, seemingly at random. So under the umbrella I sat, reading and writing. The boys teased me relentlessly for my tattered writing notebook, which I had bought in Bolivia for 10 cents and the cover of which featured a drawing of a cherubic black choir boy singing from a book of psalms. In other words, the teasing was merited. But I did get down a few lyrics and some ideas for restructuring part of my miniseries teleplay.


We had gotten a few empanadas on the beach, but by early evening, we were pretty ravenous, so we departed the beach in search of a fish market from which to buy the evening's main course. Alas, the markets had closed by the time we got there, but we did get a phenomenal view of the harbor for our trouble.


We settled for chicken. Santi, a true master in the kitchen, worked the brick oven grill and Francisco put together a delicious salad of greens, palmitas (hearts of palm), avocado, cucumber, carrots, and onions, all tossed together with lime and olive oil. Delicious.


I did the dishes and told the guys I would see them later, as they were going out for a boys' night. I had intended to spend the night in to catch up on some sleep, but my other roommates, Azul and Toi, motivated me. Before I knew it, I was in a dress and at a party. A large crowd had collected in a small square to hear reggae and forro (a traditional style of Brazilian dance music), including Maria and Ana and a rowdy Jewish South African futbol team also staying at our hostel.


We drank; we danced; we made merry. And at some point, I lost the key to my locker. I still have no idea where, and by the time I realized it, I'd had a few too many drinks to care much. I ended up abandoning the party to go dancing with three American sisters, who looked like triplets, and their German friend. The club disappointed, and we ran into Francisico and Santiago as they were leaving. After the German guy extricated me from the grasp of one particularly aggressive Brazilian guy, I walked back to the hostel, where I ran into Francisco again. We headed down to the beach to watch the sunrise and were greeted by the sight of a couple openly and rather athletically getting it on atop an overturned boat. So, yeah. There was that.

My last day in Buzios was largely uneventful. I had to pay seven bucks for one of the Nomads staff members to break open my locker, which he did, gleefully wielding a gigantic pair of clippers. Afterward, I had to switch hostels to a little place down the way, and the weather was abysmal. Rainy and windy the whole day, so I spent my time writing, working on the computer, and Skyping with my family. I had dinner with Santi, Francisco, and another pair of Argentinian girls back at Nomads, but I understood only about 40% of the conversation, as the girls' accents were quite thick. I said my goodbyes to the my roomies, the guys, and finally, the friendly staff at Nomads and thanked them for the brilliant idea of having a water filter at the hostel, meaning that I hadn't had to spend my usual amount on bottled water. (Seriously, you've no idea how much money I have spent on this.) And then I had return to pack so that I would be ready to catch an early bus the next morning.

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Location:Buzios, Brazil